Alarm clock

Alarm clock broke but the sun still calls,

posters on my wall, mixtapes in the halls.

Life’s not perfect, it’s cracked at the seams,

but I lace up my shoes and run with my dreams.

Sidewalk graffiti spelling out my name,

world says “slow down,” but I’m not in that lane.

Every setback’s just a beat in the track,

rewind, replay, then I’m bouncing right back.

Got hunger in my chest like bass in a ride,

early morning hustle, fire deep inside.

The past left scars, yeah, it wrote on my skin,

but scars ain’t losses, they’re proof I’ve been.

CDs skip, headphones buzz with the static,

but I freestyle through—raw, automatic.

Hope’s not clean, it’s messy, it’s loud,

it’s yelling in the alley, it’s lost in the crowd.

But I walk with the rhythm, head to the sky,

every “why not?” louder than “why?”

If the world’s heavy, I’ll lift twice the weight,

I bend, I don’t break—nah, that ain’t my fate.

So here’s to the morning, the grind, the fight,

to the mixtape days and the endless night.

Carry your fire, don’t let it slip slow,

you’ve got places to reach, and the strength to go.

By Onnaya